


love, i run to you

by pagets



Category: Wentworth (TV)
Genre: F/F, alt take on 5x12, let's call this fluffy angst, vaugely alludes to past sexual assault
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-22
Updated: 2017-06-22
Packaged: 2018-11-17 04:47:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,223
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11268249
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pagets/pseuds/pagets
Summary: You see her and she’s smiling and she looks like Franky, your Franky. For the first time in months you feel like you’re really seeing her.





	love, i run to you

**Author's Note:**

> Title taken from Lea Michele's 'Run To You', give that and Great Caesar's 'Kiss Me Again' a listen for full emotional effect. 
> 
> This alludes to 5x03 but not explicitly, can simply refer to the events of the whole season.

You’re leaving work, later then you know you should be but it’s not like you have anything, _anyone_ , waiting at home for you anyway.

_Anymore._

You say goodnight and part ways with your colleague and you step forward off the footpath to get to your car and then you look up and you see her. Fuck. You know this isn't some drunken hallucination. You stopped drinking, cold turkey, the day you resigned. Enough was enough. That’s not the person you want to be and you really hope you don’t have a fucking brain tumour and fuck, Franky is fifty meters down the road on the corner of the street across from you. 

_Fuck_. 

You see her and she’s smiling and she looks like Franky, _your Franky_. For the first time in months you feel like you’re really seeing her. She smiles and she shouts, “I love you!” 

Your heart sings. 

And you know exactly what she’s doing, not really engaging, not approaching you, not technically speaking to you, if anyone were to ask. Plausible deniability. Or at least making it easier for you to lie your ass of if the police, or worse (and more likely) Vera, asks you if you’ve had any contact with her. She’s standing there, in her own clothes and she actually bloody escaped, you thought she’s get herself killed trying but you should have know better. 

“And I’ll be back!" 

_You know exactly what she’s doing._

Stay put, get in the car, and drive home. You know she’s safe, that should be enough.

It’s not. 

Your body moves before your mind has even caught up, fuck deniability. You risked everything for her and apparently, despite everything, you’re not stopping now. 

_I wish I could say no._

You call after her, not quite yelling but the panic is evident in your voice, you can hear it. Your desperate to get to her. She’s half way to running off but she stops at the sound of her name on your lips. 

Looks like neither of you can say no to one and other. 

She turns back to face you as you finally reach her. She’s within arms length and you know you just make this a hundred times harder for the both of you. 

“Gidge…”

“I know, I know. Just…” You pull her into you because how the fuck can you not. Things have gotten so messed up, your world has practically fallen apart. Not because of her. Never because of her. 

_Without her._ Fuck, you love her. And you hate yourself just a little for how much you do, how unconditionally. Irrevocably.

”Come here.” 

She buries her head in the crook of your neck and she was the one who said she just wanted to hold you but it’s you with the vice grip on the back of her neck and the front of her shirt, nails digging into soft skin, and you never wanna let her go again. You feel the tears welling in your eyes, the tight lump bobbing in your throat and Franky lets out a devastating sob, you can feel her tears and her hot breath on your neck. 

“I’m sorry.” 

_You know. You know. You know._

“I know.” You’re fighting back your own tears and you’re trying to soothe her as best you can. You know she means it and that shouldn't be anywhere near enough but somehow, it almost is. 

Unconditionally. _Irrevocably._

Maybe you were wrong, _this_ is what she was trying to avoid. She’s not hiding behind teal armour now. Fighting with her, seeing her, inside of Wentworth felt surreal, this makes everything real. Aside from that one encounter in your office after you’d caught her with your key card, you know she was always keeping this part of herself locked away so she could survive inside. She didn’t know how to reconcile who she was becoming with who she had been. A struggle you knew she had even before everything went to absolute shit. 

“I fucked everything up.” 

“Shhh, baby, it’s okay.” It’s not. It shouldn't be. But for the first time in months you think it might be again. You thought escaping was most stupid, most insane idea she’s ever had yet suddenly, it feels like the endless despair that’s weighed you down is lifting. You always lauded Franky for the hope she was able to hold on to. You realise she has kept the faith even through all of this, when you couldn’t. It may have bewn self-servung at times but you know she felt like she has to protect herself. Somehow, she's carried you both to this moment and you’re more in awe of her than ever. 

“It’s not.” She’s shaking her head. She’s removed herself from the comfort of your neck, eyes downcast. Like she doesn't deserve the solace of your arms. “Gidge, I swear, I’m gonna make it right.” 

You grab her face in your hands, forcing her eyes to meet yours.

Your darling girl.

You gave up trying to stop the tears at some point and there flowing freely now. You believe her. You have never once stopped believing in her. And sometimes, devastatingly, that’s made you feel like an old fool in the past few months. But not now. Not right in this moment when her eyes are boring into yours and she looks like that scared little girl you met almost two years ago. She is so strong and so fragile all at once. This is who you fell in love with. 

“Still your girl, yeah?” She says it in the smallest voice, the one you've only ever heard in the dead of night when she's shared her deepest secrets, plauged by nightmares of Mag Jackson and Lucy Gambaro and of her cunt of a mother. She smiles that familiar, hopeful, watery smile. You know it well. Big and honest and vulnerable. So unsure of herself, seeking your acceptance and your love and you know you could never deny her of it. You'll fight and you'll hold her accountable but you never, ever, want her to feel unwanted. Abandoned. You know her heart, it’s bigger than anyone’s you’ve ever known. You can feel yourself smiling back and nodding gently. 

_Yeah._

“Always.” As if that's not the most tragic fucking this about all of this. God, you just want her back, you want her free. 

You pull her down so your lips can connect. You kiss her fiercely and fuck, you missed kissing her. And being inside of her. And her laugh when she’s elated and seeing her play with Tess and the way the house smells when she cooks all day. You miss the sheets smelling of her. Not her perfume, you have that. But _her._

Standing in the shadows on this street corner kissing each other won't make everything better, it can’t instantly repair the damage that’s been done but it’s something. A start.

You don’t want to stop. 

You just want to kiss her again and again and again. You tear your lips from hers and they trail to her chin, then to her ear.

“Franky,” you don’t realise that you’re breathless.

”You have to go.” 

It’s all strangled whispers and sobs half concealed by heaving breaths from the both of you.

“I know. I know. I’m going.”

_She’ll be back._

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! Kudos if you liked it are very appreciated and super motivating.


End file.
